LOGINI don't understand the words people say in anger. When I was seven, my foster mother complained that I ate too much and told me that if I didn't work, I wouldn't get to eat. I washed dishes for three days with a high fever. Only after I collapsed did I dare take half a moldy dinner roll. When I was twelve, my teacher told me I couldn't go home until I'd memorized the entire passage. The next morning, when the security guard forced open the classroom door, I was still standing in front of the empty desks, reciting the final paragraph. When I was sixteen, a doctor got angry when I refused treatment and snapped that if I didn't want to live, I should never take medicine again. From then on, I never touched another pill. They all said they'd only spoken out of anger. But if they didn't want me to do what they said, why say it at all? When I was twenty, the Fosters found me. The first thing my biological parents taught me was never to take anything that belonged to Gemma Foster, the daughter they'd raised in my place. So I gave her the sunny bedroom, agreed to keep my identity private, and even handed over the engagement that had originally been arranged for me. I thought if I was obedient enough, they'd let me stay. But on the night of Gemma's birthday, she left behind a suicide note and disappeared. The last time she appeared on security footage, she was outside my bedroom door. Mom slapped me. Dad demanded that I tell them where she was. My brother, Nolan, threw the car keys at me. "If Gemma doesn't come back, don't you ever come back either!" Half an hour later, Gemma sent me a location pin by the sea. She said I had to come alone, or she'd jump from the lighthouse. I didn't tell anyone. If I found her, I'd bring her home. If I couldn't, I wouldn't go back. Either way, they'd be satisfied. At eleven that night, she suddenly unsent the location she'd sent me. But by then, I was already standing beneath the abandoned lighthouse that would be submerged at high tide.
View MoreA year after my death, Mom sold the Foster family home. She said a house that had no room for me didn't deserve to be called a home.Dad used the money from the sale to establish a mental health support center. He didn't name it after me.Ms. Bennett told him I'd hated being the center of attention while I was alive and wouldn't have wanted my story turned into a symbol of the Foster family's attempt at redemption.Dad listened, then quietly removed the plaque he'd already prepared. It was the first time he'd considered whether I would want something before making a decision for me, even though it was already too late.Mom moved into the small house Grandma Jo had left me. It was barely five hundred square feet, with yellowing walls and a kitchen faucet that was always leaking.There, she found records from my childhood.When I was seven, I'd collapsed while washing dishes and was taken to a clinic, where I needed three stitches.When I was twelve, I'd suffered from frostbite af
Everyone looked at Adrian.Even I floated over to his side. I'd never written him a letter.Adrian opened the envelope. Inside was a single printed sheet."I'm willing to withdraw from the engagement, but please have the Maxwell family tell everyone that I'm the one who isn't good enough for Adrian."The name at the bottom had been written to imitate my handwriting, but in the bottom-right corner of the page was a watermark from Gemma's private studio.Adrian placed another document in front of Dad."The day the engagement was called off, Carly's reaction didn't feel right. I had someone look into it. That's when I found out she'd received a voice message from Mrs. Foster before she came to see me."Mom seemed to remember something, and her face suddenly went white.The recording played. Her voice was gentle, but every sentence pressured me to give in."Carly, Gemma has liked Adrian since she was little. You've only just come home. You don't understand the rules of our social
My funeral was scheduled for seven days later.Mom wouldn't let anyone put makeup on me. She said I'd suffered enough while I was alive and shouldn't have strangers touching me after I died.But she didn't know that I'd never been afraid of strangers. I was only afraid of someone treating me well, then suddenly telling me none of it had been real.On the day of the viewing, Mom chose a white dress for me. The tag was still attached to the sleeve. It was the first gift she'd bought me after I came home.Gemma had said she liked it too, so Mom told me to put it away for the time being and said I could have it once Gemma got tired of it.Later, Gemma forgot about it, and I never dared wear it.Mom's hands shook so badly she could barely hold the scissors as she cut off the tag. "Carly, I'm giving it to you now. This is yours. No one gets to take it from you."I sat beside the casket and watched her straighten the hem of my dress over and over. She'd finally admitted that some thing
Gemma spun around. The phone slipped from her hand and hit the stairs.Nolan approached her one step at a time. "Didn't you say Carly took your things herself? Why are you so scared now that they found the phone?"Tears spilled down Gemma's face. "Nolan, don't look at me like that. We came up with the plan together."You said if we got Carly out of my birthday party, the guests would stop crowding around her and asking about which one of us was the real Foster daughter."Nolan's face slowly turned white.I finally understood why he'd helped Gemma.Before the birthday party started, the guests had kept asking about my identity.Gemma stood nearby in a designer dress, but hardly anyone paid attention to her. She couldn't stand having me steal the spotlight, so she'd gone crying to Nolan.Nolan agreed to help her teach me a lesson. They placed the suicide note and her personal belongings at the lighthouse to lure me away from the party.Once I arrived, Gemma would leave through t






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